AHS: APOCOCLYPSE
by Carpathian Rose
Summary: Evil was evil and good was good. But nothing was ever set in stone. Destiny can change in a heartbeat. Michael/Mallory
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

"Satan may only have one son, but my sisters are legion, mother FUCKER!"

Michaels roar echoed in the outpost as Cordelia sliced the blade deep. No. She couldn't die. Not yet. NOT YET. Rage filtered through him as Cordelia's sudden lifeless body tilted backward and over the banister. Rage, as he lunged for her.

Rage and panic.

He hadn't known panic since he was a child. Not since his child like father had refused to acknowledge him. He hadn't felt this kind of panic since his grandmother finally gave up on him.

Because WHERE WAS SHE? The other witch! _Mallory_.

The low hum of energy buzzed, lighting the air with static electricity. And then it flared to life and he fucking felt her. The fucking witch. She was Supreme.

So young. So _strong_.

She was going to destroy him and everything he'd worked so hard for.

"NO!" He roared again and slammed into the bathroom. He saw her then, submerged in the water. The water surged and churned around her, steam rising from its surface. The water bubbled, darkness forming at the edges until the water was nearly engulfed with it and she was descending...

That same rage filtered through him and he jumped into the water after her. The water sucked him in and he reached her, wrapping his hands around her slender neck.

He wanted to snap it. He wanted to choke the life out of her precious, beautiful body. Her arms rose up defensively, her hands clawing. Twisted threads of his hair remained clenched in her fist.

His chest burned as the water churned hotter around them. Her mouth opened and bubbles rose up. And then she shot bright, burning light up his arms. It burned like fire and he would have snarled if he'd been able. Michael hurtled his own dark energy right into hers in rebound, just as the murky waters sucked them both down, down into ...nothing.

Nothing except her lungs burning.

Her chest constricted as the water surged around them. Michael only squeezed harder until she was forced to open her mouth on a silent, drowned out scream. Water spewed into her mouth and she lifted her hand, her palm slapping over his face.

Mallory tried to utter the words, but more water spewed past her lips. So she whispered them in her mind. Another blast of light from her palm sent Michael jerking back.

He released her.

The water went black.

And then it spewed upward until there was nothing between her and Michael but their heated stares before it all came crashing back down over them.

Mallory jerked upward in the sudden shallow water. Her chest heaved as she sucked in a shuddering breath, air filtering into her abused lungs. Michael mimicked her move, staring at her with such hatred until he looked beyond her.

The water lapped at her waist, reminding her why she'd performed the spell...they needed her to go back in time. She had to stop Michael. Her heart beat hollowly as she guarded herself mentally, preparing...

The spell hadn't worked. Not...right. Something wasn't right. She was wet. Her clothes were wet. Her hair was wet. They were minor details, but they were enough to warn her something had gone wrong. Michael's appearance faired no better.

Another detail was Michael. He shouldn't have followed. He shouldn't have been able to.

He wasn't watching her, though. He was looking over her shoulder. She twisted and looked, her movements suddenly cautious. Her heart thudded in her ears at the sight of The Coven.

The Coven that Michael had destroyed.

And yet it stood proud and strong, tall white columns framing the towering structure. Hope filtered through her for a moment as she stood. The water sucked at her dress before releasing, forcing the material to cling stickely to her legs.

Hope. Until she realized that this wasn't where she was supposed to be. She was supposed to be at a time and place where she could kill Michael. A place where he wasn't so powerful. And yet here she was.

The Coven, just like she remembered. Her home. It was different. It was...off. It was...it was gone. It wasn't supposed to be standing.

Michael's thoughts must have mirrored hers because he stepped out of the shallow lake and past her. "What is this?" He accused roughly. She could feel the heated anger and confusion coming off him in waves.

"Your loss." Mallory returned. "You've lost, Michael." But she wasn't exactly sure of that. The how or the why. Or even if he had lost. The Coven was a huge thing and with it, her sisters. If they thrived...Michael died.

Michael's lips twisted into a silent snarl as he suddenly stalked towards the Coven. She took off after him, but he was already up the stone steps and slamming the double doors open with a wave of his hand.

Cordelia stood across the room on the last step of the stairway, addressing a group of young women and men. Witches and Warlocks.

Cordelia. Pain filtered through Mallory, an emotional stab at her heart. Cordelia was alive! But how?! Mallory had felt the moment Cordelia had taken her own life to ensure hers. She had felt the sudden ascension of Supreme in her blood.

"What is this?" Michael snarled again.

"No!" Mallory called out as Michael lashed out, one hand reached for Cordelia's slim throat.

Except he never made contact. His body fell right through hers, insubstantial. He spun around, his wet, tangled hair framing his face. No one seemed to even acknowledge his presence. Not even hers for that matter.

She lifted a hand, but her fingers just grazed through Cordelia's arm.

They were separate from reality. A vague sense of realization set in. Mallory realized in that moment what was wrong. Or what was right. No, they weren't in the past. Michael had done something when he'd connected with her in the water. They had done something.

They were in the future.

A peaceful future, where somehow Cordelia was still alive, the Coven thrived powerfully and the Witches and Warlocks had...united?

Her knees threatened to buckle. She needed to get back. Cordelia didn't have to die! There was hope!

And yet it had taken two to formulate this place. It would take Michael for them to return.

"And our Supremes-" Cordelia said, motioning with her arm towards a door at the far end of the hall.

Michael turned his head and then started in that direction, purpose in each step.

"It's over, Michael. Can't you see you've lost?" Mallory called out before taking after him.

With another wave of his hand he sent the white door flying open, an action that once again no one took note of. And stopped.

Mallory stopped behind him and then moved to his side, staring into the oddly almost familiar room. A long table took up the space with elegant chairs along each side. The curtains were pulled tight, blocking out the bright light. Candles burned... But she didn't notice any of that.

Her eyes were drawn to the couple pressed against the other end of the table. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed in the long, empty dining room. They both wore black, the long black cape framing the man from behind. Blonde hair was tied at the nape of his neck as he thrust. Mallory caught a glimpse of pale legs wrapped around his waist, a woman's slender arms clinging to his shoulders. The woman's gasps were low, eliciting the man's groans.

The male whispered something and Mallory realized...that was _Michael_ across the room. And the woman was _her_. Dumb-struck, Mallory lifted her gaze to Michael's own shocked ones. A dull sensation filled her chest as he suddenly smiled.

"Oh no, my dear witch. I think I've won."


	2. Chapter 2

She felt sick. Physically, she was fine, but mentally she was suddenly ill. Mallory turned away and strode back into the foyer.

What had happened?

That was a stupid question. It was obvious what she had walked in on. Nausea rose.

How? When? Where?

She was suddenly terrified. The future was at peace, but she was in turmoil. The image of Michael and her against the table was burned into her brain. How could she?

Michael couldn't control her. There was no doubt in her mind of her power. The thought came again.

The future was brilliantly alive. Her home, her family, everything was here. She drew in a shuddering breath. Michael was here. He was alive. What had changed that she hadn't killed him?

She lifted her head and it wasn't until then that she noticed the dark touches of color here and there. The Coven had always been pristine and white, a sign of Crystal clear serenity, unity and power.

Now there were hints of gold, black edges, red roses. All Michael, she somehow knew.

It was all entirely wrong. It had to be.

She stiffened at the sound of footsteps and then Michael was there, filling her vision.

He arched a slender eyebrow. "Aren't you full of surprises." He stopped before her and she stiffened, but held her ground. He smiled. "Even when backed into a corner, you don't run."

He lifted his hand and trailed the back of his fingers down her cheek, much in the same way he had that first time in the Outpost. Her lips twisted and she knocked his hand away. The world shifted and suddenly he had her against the wall, one hand against her throat holding her in place.

Gentle, yet warning.

Michael leaned in, his nose pressing against her cheek as he inhaled. "From the moment I met you, I knew there was something about you. You were different. You weren't just powerful. There was...is...something more than just powerful in you, Mallory. I felt it...even in the Outpost. You didn't flock to me like the others, but you didn't run, either." He pressed his lips against her cheek. "Did you want me then, Mallory, when we first spoke? Did you think about what you just saw, what I did to the others, did you want those things, as well?"

Why was he suddenly saying these things?

His thumb feathered over the pulse beating frantically in her neck.

Her heart thundering in her ears, Mallory lifted her hands and sent Michael stumbling back a few steps with a flick of her wrists and thoughts. Talk about power. She would show him power if that's what he wanted. "That was nothing. That will never, ever happen. I would rather burn in hell."

Michael laughed softly. "Hell is sin incarnate, Mallory. It's not just the fiery pit you learned about in bible study...there is so much more decadency. Maybe one day you will burn there."

Michael opened a door across the hallway and motioned with one long arm. "Ladies first."

Mallory strode past him without a word. The world felt surreal, like they were shrouded from everything. Was this the power of two Supremes coming together? Instead of changing the past, one could see the future, if they willed it.

Too bad it had been accidental on their part.

God, Michael had fucked up everything.

She spun around when she realized they were in a bedroom and with a sweep of her hand she sent Michael slamming against the opposite wall.

He didn't so much as flinch. Instead he laughed. "I want you to remember, Mallory, I like it rough." With a shrug of his shoulders he pulled from the wall and started towards her.

Mallory retreated. For the first time in her life, she took a step backwards. Whether it was from the sudden stupor of what she had seen, or the sudden predatory glint in Michael's eyes, she didn't know.

Her back came up against another door and her palm twisted over the knob. Michael reached her and covered her hand with his. "You're in the future, Mallory, and remember, there are always consequences to changing what's already set in motion."

And now that Michael had seen what his future beheld, he was more than willing to make some current and necessary changes. He could forgo the death of millions, if that meant Mallory ruling at his side.

He wanted power and Supreme dominion over all and he knew just how to get it.

He twisted her hand over the door knob and it clicked open. He was close enough to physically walk her backwards another step and then they were in a huge tiled bathroom. He reached beyond her and pushed open the walk in shower door. Mentally, he turned all three shower heads on until steam filtered out of the doorway.

Mallory had thought they had to return submerged, as when they had arrived, but no. Two Supremes were more than enough power to return in any equal way.

His lips curved. "Shall we?"

The hot water poured over her as she stepped into the shower, Michael's towering body following hers. What exactly was he hoping to accomplish-

Michael spun her around and pushed her back so that she slid against the slippery tiles. His hands came up and twisted in her tangled wet hair and jerked her head back. "Tempus Infinituum." He whispered against her lips before kissing her hard.

Her bottom lip stung when he bit down just hard enough to draw blood. "A belonging, of a time where we recently resided." He answered her furious, silent question. His tongue slid over his bottom lip, tasting her blood there.

"Tempus Infinituum." He said again, without releasing her.

"Tempus Infinituum." Mallory repeated, her eyes narrowed.

The water poured over them, slowly rising up to their ankles and then their calves.

"Again." Michael said.

"Tempus Infinituum." Mallory said through clenched teeth.

And then Michael pressed his body flush against hers as the water rose higher, darkening, swirling around their waists. "Do you ever think about it, Mallory? If you had given yourself to me in the Outpost? Are you even now thinking about what you would have felt on that table, with my body buried inside yours?" He lowered his head and bit the side of her neck as one hand shifted and braced against the small of her back, keeping her flush against him.

Her breath lodged in her throat. She could feel him against her stomach through their soaked clothing. He was hard.

"Because your heart is pounding. I'm thinking about everyway I can have you on that table. Everyway that I can maim that precious, powerful Supreme body of yours with my hands." He bent his knees as the water suddenly surged upward and gripped the back of her thighs. He hauled her upwards so that her inner thighs cradled his hips. And his hard body was flush up against the place between her thighs.

Mallory gave it due to the fact that Michael was a pure, evil monster. He was sin incarnate and there was nothing better than sin, because it was so much easier to be bad than good. Because his words had those exact images flashing through her mind.

Maybe, back at the Outpost, she wouldn't have stood a chance against his sudden advances. She wouldn't have stood a chance at the way he held her skin tight against his hips because she thought she was normal then. Michael had said often how he wanted them all to reprocreate...no, she wouldn't have stood a chance then.

She understood, oh yes, she understood why the others had been so susceptible to him...he was very, very tempting.

Just like the serpent with the apple to Eve.

But she knew who she was and she knew just how wrong Michael was.

The water grew inky black and Michael grinned. "Better take a deep breath." He said. She opened her mouth in response, her chest expanding for that last breath and Michael swooped in like the hunter he was.

His lips touched hers in a hard, open mouthed kiss just as the water roared up over them, sucking them back into the darkness they'd come from.

Michael thrust his tongue past her unsuspecting lips and Mallory slapped his chest and twisted her head away. Water gushed into her mouth and then Michael was there again, his hair floating with hers. His fingers tangled in her hair as he angled her head back-he kissed her again, sucking the acrid water from her own mouth so that she was breathing; breathing him in.

He'd taken full advantage of the situation with evil glee. He was continuing that advantage by kissing her over and over, his tongue imating sex as it thrust into her mouth.

He tasted nothing like what evil should taste like. He tasted like warm honey that drizzled. He should have tasted like the darkness that represented his absent soul. He should have tasted like hellfire and brimstone. But he tasted like warm honey and the hot embrace of seduction.

He tasted like sin.

She didn't even realize her thighs were still latched onto his hips, more out of self preservation than anything else. She did realize when he rolled his hips, though, grinding the thick ridge behind his trousers between her thighs.

The water sucked them downward and she felt the heavy suction and then they were horizontal, Michael over her body. His right hand flattened down her back and then he was gripping her ass and grinding her body against his.

Her eyes nearly rolled in the back of her head.

And she was kissing him back. Even with the water growing thicker and heavier, the spell sparking off their skin, she was kissing him back, sucking more of that honeyed flavor into her. Her arms circled his broad shoulders, the water so dark she couldn't see even if she opened her eyes.

She sucked his tongue into her mouth, vaguely aware of the bottom falling out beneath her before she hit a hard surface with a thud. The water surged upward, leaving them momentarily free of its weight just like before and then it came crashing back down over them, sloshing over the sides of the rounded tub.

He may as well have been naked for all the good the wet clothes did him. She could feel every hard inch of lean muscle beneath his black shirt.

She couldn't breath. Her gasp filled the empty airwaves between then when she twisted her head to the side. Michael only switched tactics, sliding those sinful, honey lips down the slender length of her neck.

The water was hollow, just reaching her ears in their position. It was annoying, deafening her ears in the hollow depth.

Michael must have known because a growl rumbled in his chest and he snapped the fingers of one hand. The water evaporated, steam rising up around them.

Mallory blinked her eyes to clear her vision as Michael moved lower, his lips sliding over her collar bone. One of his hands moved low, fingers circling her right ankle before his palm was moving upward slowly, the black fabric of her dress moving with it. Her leg was bared, her knee. Her thigh.

Her blurred vision cleared and the ceiling came into view, the round edges of the tub. Michael's teeth nipped the curve of one breast. Her fingers tightened in his hair.

The ceiling was familiar, the rounded tub...

Michael's fingers lazily stroked her outer thigh...

The ceiling, the beams...the Outpost.

Cordelia.

Her Coven.

Michael.

Oh God, Michael.

They were back.

Horror filled her as she realized her precarious position. The kisses, the way she'd eagerly wrapped her legs around his waist.

Michael's hand moved dangerously higher.

Panic and denial sent her heart into overtime and she transmuted across the room with barely a thought. She heard the small thud of Michael's body hitting the floor where she had been and his soft, amused laugh.

The Outpost. They were back. Michael's head slowly appeared over the edge of the tub before he came to his full height. They were both soaking wet. His expression was one of dark amusement. His eyes fucking gleamed with...desire and ...what?

He lifted one leg over and placed it on the floor.

Mallory turned and ran.

But to where? This was Michael's apoloclpytic world. And she was alone. Everyone she knew was dead. Her shoes clicked rhythmically as she raced down the stairs, her mind working frantically. What would Cordelia have wanted her to do?

Cordelia.

Mallory stumbled to a halt so hard she had to grab the stair railing to keep herself steady. The landing was three steps down-and so was Cordelia's lifeless body.

Her heart broke all over again.

She turned her head at the sound of Michael's decension on the stairs. He looked immaculate. His clothes were dry, his hair combed to perfection. Agony filled her at the thought of Cordelia again and she lifted her hand.

Michael paused midstep from the gust of energy before he continued down the stairs. His eyes were the cruel blue that she had grown accustomed to. He stopped one step above hers, his gaze meeting hers.

She could have made herself as immaculate as he was, but she didn't. What was the point? Mallory couldn't see any other way. Michael had won. Her attempt had failed.

He looked over her shoulder for a split second before his head tilted back mere inches. His eyes darkened until there was nothing but black, not even the whites could be seen.

Seconds. Just seconds.

Cordelia gasped behind her.

Her breath froze in her chest as she spun around. Cordeila still lay on the floor, but she was...breathing, her hands hovering over the blood staining her dress. Blood, Mallory saw, without the wound.

Cordeila was alive!

Mallory was already stumbling down those last steps as Cordelia leaned up on one elbow. She sank to her knees and dragged Cordelia into her arms.

Other voices drifted to her ears and then Madison came in from the opposite room with a, "What the fuck?"

Madison, Coco, Marie...all of them.

Tears filled Mallory's eyes but she blinked them back. She looked at Michael. "Why are you doing this?" She asked in a suddenly hoarse voice.

Michael looked over them all, one by one. He knew he was superior to them all. Once again, his eyes met Mallory's. Except her. She was possibly his equal.

He would dominate her and she would walk by his side.

And he wanted her. He just hadn't realized what he wanted exactly, until he'd seen it. There was still so much he didn't understand...but that would come in time.

He didn't smile as he spoke, his steps echoing as he walked down the stairs. "Your little time travel maneuver didn't work. And yet here you are." The other three witches gave him wide birth. They were learning.

He stopped in front of Mallory and Cordelia. "Mallory saw a world made whole. She didn't travel to the past. She traveled to the future. It wasn't a vision or a dream." His eyes held Mallory's. "She saw a world made whole, where Witches and Warlocks were united. You didn't hide or cower in fear of the outside world." Oh, he still planned to rid this God forsaken human plane of its pestilence, but the time wasn't now. He had to plan carefully.

"You were ruled by not one, but two Supremes."

Cordeila gripped Mallory's arm. "What happened, Mallory?"

Mallory couldn't speak. What was he doing? Her mouth dry, she spoke. "He's telling the truth. I saw..." She couldn't tell them about her and Michael. God, no. She would take that to her grave. She nodded numbly. "I saw it."

Michael's solumn face never changed. It sent a chill down her spine. "I will give you this world. No more death, no more fighting. There will be...peace, as it were. But you will no longer hide."

Mallory swore Michael's gaze pierced to her very soul. He held out his hand. "From one Supreme to another, Mallory. You saw what I did. You walk this path with me, rule the Coven at my side, and you'll have everything you saw." The hidden meaning was all too clear, but one only she understood. "The choice is yours, Mallory. Life or death. Their lives are in your hands."

Bitterness filled her. She understood now. He wasn't really giving her a choice at all. Either he won, and they lost, or they lost and still had an apocalyptic world with nothing else to lose.

It wasn't just the sex, she knew. It couldn't be. Had he seen something that she hadn't, that had suddenly driven him to this insanity?

Everything that she was screamed at her internally as she reached out. Even Cordelia vocalized her denial.

She took Michael's hand.

His fingers closed around hers. There should have been triumph in his gaze, but there was nothing. He pulled Mallory to her feet and then took their joined hands and placed them against the wall. He flattened his palm against the back of her hand.

He held out his free hand and the dagger that Cordelia had used to kill herself flew into his hand. The blade gleaned, the edges sharp. Pristine. No trace of blood remained. Without warning he stabbed the blade through their hands. The blade sliced through, the tip embedding in the wall.

Mallory's hand convulsed and she cried out at the burning, stabbing pain. Why? WHY? What was he doing? She jerked, but Michael kept his hand flat against hers, as if he didn't even feel the blade in his own.

Their two hands pressed against the wall, impaled, Michael grasped the hilt. "Blood of my blood." And yanked the blade out.

Mallory stumbled back, clutching her bleeding palm against her chest. Was he insane? She stared at her bleeding palm and then at him again.

Michael looked over each and every witch again. "What you do to me, you do to her." These were words he wouldn't repeat. There would be no warning, only repercussions. "If any of you are stupid enough to try and kill me-again-, in which you won't succeed-again-you are doing the same to her." His blue eyes landed on Mallory. "And God help anyone who hurts you. Their souls will only wish for death with what I will do to them."

It was in that moment that Mallory could only imagine, how in the bible, Eve felt when she took the forbidden fruit.

 _It was with a good end in mind that acquiring the knowledge of good and evil, that Eve allowed herself to be carried away and eat the forbidden fruit. But Adam was not moved by this desire for knowledge, but simply by greed._


	3. Chapter 3

His father wasn't going to be happy. No, Michael knew his _dear_ Father wasn't happy. There was no "not going to be" about it.

He would have his vision of a new world one way or another. This world wasn't much to his liking anyways, he realized. He just hadn't realized it until he'd seen what Mallory could bring.

Mallory.

The witch had certainly changed things. He couldn't really explain what had went through his mind when they had walked in on their future selves.

He nearly smirked at the reminder.

All he knew was that in that moment, he wanted Mallory by his side. She had no equal in the witches or Warlocks. With the Supreme on his side, _who_ could stop him?

He had seen just how powerful their Coven could be, albeit through one witch, but he was on the losing side in this battle…

He never lost.

Oh, he could have had her and still had this dark, dreary world filled with death. But what fun was to be had in that?

He smiled.

This world of death hadn't exactly been his plan, had it? All of the death and misery were his Father's. The iconic and idiotic bombs were those weak humans. Fools.

His lips twisted into a sneer.

He was done playing by the rules of someone else's game. This was his fucking game. Satan himself hadn't been able to bring the witches to heel.

Michael lifted his hand and stared at the wound in his palm.

He had. And their Supreme was his. She didn't realize the full extent of that, but oh, she would in time. Mallory was an enigma and he was suddenly drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

Why?

The witches would stew and no doubt plot. They would learn soon enough that his word was law.

He closed his hand and the stab wound sealed shut. He doubted Mallory knew what a true Blood Bond was. He doubted any of the witches knew. Blood of my Blood. The blade had pierced his hand, and then coated in his blood, had pierced her own hand.

She wouldn't be able to run and she wouldn't be able to hide.

He stopped on the outer edges of the Outpost and stared out at the polluted surroundings. His disease ridden children were out there, living in the dusk and radiated poison of rubbled cities.

They were disgusting, filthy, boil ridden creatures.

Of course...none of that mattered now. He had promised a new world and he always kept his promises. It's corruption would come again in due time…

He turned his head and then held out his hand to Mallory. He hadn't heard her approach, but he hadn't needed to. He felt her; deep down, through their blood, he felt her.

He was going to enjoy every single bit of this cruel journey.

When she didn't immediately take his hand, he spoke. "I keep my promises."

He'd promised to restore the world as it once was.

Mallory didn't understand, but she took his hand, a dull sense of foreboding resting heavily on her shoulders.

It hit her like a rush, the energy that flowed from his hand and into her body. It was like she'd been plugged into a live wire, the vibrations moving from the feet up. The image of daylight and green pounded itself into her brain, the chirp of birds and other wild animals.

Her head fell back, her eyes glazing over with oily black. Michael mimicked her move, raising his other hand. She could feel the sunlight on her skin, the soft caress of the wind tugging. She'd felt power before, but this was...something else. This was riveting, the ability to bring back so much...to reach into the dark...she was vaguely aware of Cordelia calling her name.

Michael's lips curved into a resemblance of a smile. Self satisfaction. Cunning and a liar. He dropped the smile before he turned his head and regarded Cordelia with cold, hard eyes. "If the future is to come to pass, we will learn to work together."

He and Mallory would go united. What one did, the other did. They did it together. Spells like this required a tremendous amount of energy, and why wear one Supreme out, when two could equal the power?

But this was nothing to him. Absolutely nothing. He was using Mallory for every opportunity that was presented. Every combined effort, it was just another link that connected their energy and soon, it would be second nature to her.

He didn't need Mallory for this small piece of redirected power. Oh no, he owned fucking death. They were knocking on Death's door to bring life and culture back from the darkness. Which brought Mallory into its dark recesses. Even if only for seconds. And it was a heady, addicting sensation mixing with death.

Of course Cordelia wouldn't have taught her young Supreme, or any of her witches for that matter, the depths of darkness you had to go to in some spells. No, she would have steered clear of that.

He wanted Mallory fucking addicted to it.

Evil was highly concentrated and addictive. He wanted Mallory addicted to HIM, beneath his thumb.

Mallory blinked against the startling bright light, struggling to come back from the high that held her. Her body was humming with energy, so alive. It was like she was seeing through a black kaleidoscope, the images changing...the sun…

She felt the sun. She hadn't felt the sun in so long. She blinked again and the dark haze over her vision cleared, receding back until she could see...her breath froze in her throat. The blue sky. Clouds. Birds flew over head, their small singing voices reaching her ears. The grass was green and lush beneath their feet and she instantly wished she was barefoot.

Mallory inhaled and then looked down, realizing she still held Michael's hand. There was something about the color of his tan skin against her pale skin, the way his hand nearly engulfed hers. His fingernails were clean and filed down to perfection. She could see his fingers in her mind, imagine the tips trailing down the curve of her spine….

She released his hand abruptly and felt the energy abate. She watched as the length of separation between their fingers grew, the static like electricity that clung between their fingers...like it was wanting to pull them back into that touch.

She blinked but it was gone just as suddenly as she'd imagined it. _Had_ she imagined it?

"We have one more thing to do." Michael said evenly, bringing her attention back up to his calm facade.

Uneasiness settled in the pit of her stomach again. This wasn't like the Michael Langdon that she had come to know and yes, even fear. _That_ Michael Langdon had been a force to be reckoned with.

No, Mallory corrected herself. He still was a force to be reckoned with. This was just...completely out of his character. It didn't sit well with her that he was suddenly so intent on setting right what he had wronged. Michael had to have an ulterior motive? But what?

Michael's image wavered and then flickered in and out of transparency before he was gone completely.

A huge, gushing sigh and curse sounded all around her. The breath she'd been holding rushed out.

"Why are we even allowing this?" Madison burst out, exasperated.

They weren't fools. They were bargaining with the devil for all intents and purposes.

Cordelia gripped Mallory's shoulders. "What did you see, Mallory? Really?"

Mallory shook her head. "I saw it, Cordelia. Everything. Like none of this had ever happened."

"What the fuck did he mean by blood? Are we forgetting that he killed us? That he probably will again? I really don't want to die again. Again again…" Coco shook her head, clearly confused and pissed off. Maybe she was afraid.

Mallory twisted her hands. "I just... I don't know." It made as much sense to her as it did to them. They would all have to be on guard, especially her. She was the only one who could stop him if it came down to that. "Just...wait."

They wouldn't be in servitude, that wasn't what she sensed from Michael. Mallory would fight him tooth and nail if that were the case.

From their vantage view, Michael was proving to be a suddenly admirable ali. But Mallory knew more than anyone that there was more to him than met the eye.

"Where did he go?" Madison asked.

A soft tugging sensation fluttered against Mallory's insides. And then she knew. "The Coven." She said, the tugging sensation growing stronger with every second. It wasn't physical, it was more of a phantom memory.

She half turned and then gave in to the consistent pull, her body wavering out of view before she disappeared all together. Her eyebrows snapped down when she appeared in front of Michael's arrogant face.

"How did you do that?"

Michael just arched an eyebrow. "Do what?"

"That...I felt you. You wanted me here."

"I summoned you, yes. You will feel me everywhere through the Blood Bond. You'll come to realize it's quite...handy." So calm, so matter of fact.

Mallory silently fumed at that small information. That made sense...what she felt was Michael. But that summoning, oh no, that wasn't going to do at all. She stared up at the tall, wrought iron gates overrun with dead vines.

The Coven Gates, she realized in awed dismay.

The gate was covered in dead vines and ferns, the long veiny lines twisting through the bars. She could make out the once beautiful building that was now down to rubble, half the windows shattered and one support beam crooked. It was so out of place in the surrounding greenery.

He'd destroyed it that very first time.

He stood there in front of her, patiently waiting for the other witches that she knew would soon arrive... and they did, flashing in one by one.

Michael turned without a word and started up the broken, uneven stone steps. The double doors were already half ajar. Broken debris and glass echoed beneath their footsteps.

Michael led them to the main dining room, stepping over the broken chair legs and shattered dinnerware. So long ago, it seemed...He trailed his fingers over the tables surface as he walked. And then stopped, the tips of his fingers resting on the end.

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting Mallory's.

Mallory understood and her eyes narrowed as his fingers caressed the exact spot on the table that they had walked into…

"You will not fight the Warlocks." Michael said evenly. "And they will not fight you. The time for foolishness is over. There is great power in _all_ of you. A truce, if you will." Michael chose his words carefully. A truce, yes, but _only_ between the Witches and Warlocks.

His lips curved into the chilling smile that Mallory was growing far too accustomed to.

"The Bible is overrated. You will come to find out that I am not the _beast_ you learned about in Sunday school. No more than you witches are as evil as the Salem Witch Trials. Try giving the _Codex Gigas_ a read, or the _Book of the Dead_." He suggested, his tone blandly mocking. "You'll find the differences of religion striking."

Michael swept his fingers again, almost caressing the tables aged surface. All for Mallory's benefit. He never did anything without purpose.

And then color spread out from the table beneath his fingertips, a smooth, white marbled finish that inched over the table before it stopped. "Shall we?" Michael asked softly.

Why? Why was he making her participate? Mallory could feel their eyes on her; she couldn't defy Michael out right. Honestly, she didn't want to. She just wanted things to be _right._ No death, no pain.

For all of their sakes, for the future they all needed, she had to.

Mallory placed her palm flat against the weathered table. The energy ripped up her arm and then back down, spreading over the table in a wide array of white. Mallory wasn't sure what it was, Michael, or just the power of Supreme, but it vibrated through her entire body on a live wire of electricity through their joint mental length.

Power had never felt so seductive.

Michael's teeth flashed white as he barely suppressed a smile.

The white filtered downward over the table legs and then the floor with colors of gold and beige, up the walls and the shards of glass coming over the windows. It flowed outward until... There was nothing left _undone._ Everything was pristine. Everything was familiar. But different.

Mallory remembered walking into the Coven, remembered the ivory and gold. Remembered the shocked denial when she'd seen...

She looked up into Michael's plotting, gleeful blue eyes. Oh yes, Michael Langdon was putting the future into the present very nicely.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Michael would make his life as he saw fit and he would damn anyone who saw fit to interfere. He was of one of the utmost powerful beings. No, he corrected himself, there was no greater power than his. Both Angelic and Demonic blood flowed through his veins. Darkness took up the vicinity of his heart so there was no room for weakness.

He'd left the Witches for the moment. Let them revel in the awe and power of what he and Mallory had accomplished. He had committed from memory their future. Their future. From the molecule moldings on the chairs to the finest detailed crown moldings. He had paid special homage to the table.

He wanted her to know he hadn't forgotten. He wasn't going to forget.

He wasn't going to let her forget.

Because that was going to be where he took her. The very first time, that was going to be where he took her and sacrificed her virginal body over his.

He felt the stirrings of desire in his blood. His cock twitched. He wanted Mallory. Wanted her more than anything he'd wanted in his entire life. Was it because she was the forbidden fruit to him? Was it because she wanted to fight him?

He wanted Mallory to see that good wasn't always good and bad...wasn't always bad.

But sometimes it felt so good to be bad. There was so much to be had in the darkness and he wanted Mallory to see that, the other side, he wanted her to experience that wicked folly.

He stood at the edge of the cliff, overlooking the miles and miles of green. It almost sickened him. The Coven stood out in stark contrast alabaster white glory. He could destroy it with a flick of his wrist.

He turned his head, looking over his shoulder at the green path behind him. His footsteps had left decay in his wake. The grass lay. withered beneath his feet, dying, the green fading into crippled brown.

He was death and even the earth knew that.

His blue eyes hardened.

He harbored the name Michael, the same name as one of the archangels. Wasn't his life parallel to that of Jesus? He came from a higher, powerful being. He rose from the dead. Prophets followed him…

His lips twisted into a silent snarl. He hadn't wanted to destroy the world. He wanted to destroy the Witches, so that he could bring the world to heel. If not...the witches would come kneel.

All witches were descendants of Angels and the pathetic mortals weren't even aware. They refused to believe otherwise. Mallory...there was something powerful in her.

He wanted her to fall just like all the other Fallen before her.

Anger filtered through him and then disgust. He'd been manipulated his whole life. His choices weren't his own and because the Bible deemed him evil incarnate, so it must be?

He was Michael Langdon; but he wasn't. He was only seen as the Biblical Antichrist, Satan's spawn.

No more. He was fucking Michael Langdon, and his will would be his own and HIS will be done.

He waved his hand and the decay left in his wake riveted to life with bloomed roses. He paused and lifted his head.

Rage filtered through him as he turned and looked down on the Coven. The roses withered and died with his rising anger before he disappeared.

* * *

Michael had made the place in his own image. Mallory could see his elegant touches. Even the wide staircase bore his touch through the gold and marbled hand rail that curved and winded upward beside the stairs.

It screamed of glorious purpose.

Mirrors framed the walls while others were touched with dark pieces of gore. Surprisingly, they weren't out of place. After all, this was a witches Coven.

She paused in front of one picture. The colors were dark with the red and black dominant. It was obviously demonic in nature. And sexual. The horned demon held a female's body, while the other hand cupped her breast. It was finely detailed, gruesome, with the threat of violence.

She shivered.

She located Michael's room instantly. She knew it was his. He had a touch for dark flair and this room screamed of it. Nothing in the room was light. Everything was just...dark. The curtains were a deep burgundy and black, blocking out any light. The lamps on the wall and fireplace cast the only light.

The massive bed sat off against the other side of the room. And it was huge, easily fitting...at least six people. Dark wood steps connected from the bed to the floor because no doubt, the bed wasn't easily accessed for even her.

Mallory cringed.

The thick blankets were black and she caught sight of black silk beneath. He intended to stay here then.

She cursed beneath her breath and left the room.

The next room; how had he known that this was hers previous? Hers was as light and airy as his was dark. The vanity harbored crystals and liquid vials and books.

And a rose so red she was swore it was blood.

Her heart twisted and her stomach somersaulted. She trailed her fingers over the petals and the long stem. There were no thorns.

This was so wrong.

A door set off to one side of the room and when she opened it, she stared in disbelief at the dark interior. She closed it instantly and then twisted the lock on her side.

No. Oh, oh no, no, no.

She waved her hand and plaster and wall took the place of the door. Absolutely not. Michael was going to learn just how easy she was not.

Raised voices drew her attention and she stepped back out into the hallway. She leaned over the gold and marbled railing and peered down. Men. The Warlocks. She grimaced at the raised tones. This wasn't going to be as easy as Michael suggested. There was a lot of unjust discord between the Witches and Warlocks that couldn't be settled overnight.

There was one thing that she agreed with Michael on. It was time the Witches and Warlocks united. Mallory wasn't too keen on that fact, either, but it was the hard reality of what needed to happen.

Mallory took a deep breath, counted to five and then started down the stairs. Some were subjugated to combining the Covens, while others were too prejudiced to even think of considering the matter.

They didn't have a choice.

They could leave.

The rest...they weren't too happy with the fact of Michael period.

"He's the fucking antichrist. Have you forgotten that part?" One Warlocks said through clenched teeth, planting his palms as he stared Cordelia down across the table.

"No, believe me when I say, we have not." Cordelia said, clearly as agitated.

"He ended the world. He ended us."

Mallory wasn't one for confrontation, but when the opportunity called for it, "He also brought us back. He did all of this." Mallory said, sweeping her hand out in a wide arc.

Was she really defending Michael? The thought made her physically ill. But she spoke the truth.

"To what means?" The Warlock spat. He was afraid. Mallory could feel it, could hear it in his voice. "We can fight him together, if that's what it comes down to. He's evil."

Mallory knew he was part of that sanction that didn't believe in the Witches and Warlocks working together. She shook her head. "You can't. You'd die before you even lifted a hand."

Together, it would just be one mass casualty.

He slammed his hands down on the table, turning on Cordelia. "You're the Supreme. You can end this stupidity."

Cordelia shook her head. "No, I'm not." She said, looking towards Mallory.

"Then how are you…" He looked towards Mallory, a sour expression crossing his features. "Michael?" He questioned and then cursed. "You're fools, all of you. He's setting you up, all of us. He wants your trust."

The man rounded the table and then gripped Mallory's forearms. "Don't let him do this to you, to all of us. He's clouding your mind and you don't even see it." Desperation and fear rang in every word and Mallory felt for him. She didn't even know how to reassure him. His fingers tightened, digging into her flesh. "You're the Supreme. Act like it. Don't let him destroy everything again."

He was frantic. God.

"Let me go." Mallory reached up and pushed at his arms gently.

He shook her in desperation and then shifted his hold to just one arm and turned her around so that they were facing the entire room. "This is why we don't govern with the Witches. They maybe strong, but they don't have a sense of what's right. And this, they make a GIRL their Supreme. She'd rather leave us suffer-"

"Stop it." Mallory gritted out and then let a current of energy ripple through her skin so that the Warlock released her and stumbled back. He was starting a heated argument that, she had the feeling, more would follow than not.

He cursed again and then swept his arm out. The hard current of wind knocked her backward into the wall before she crumpled to the ground.

The temperature in the room plummeted, the sudden dense atmosphere in the room quieting everyone's argument. Because Michael stood in the once empty doorway. One moment it was empty...and then he was just there.

And Michael, he seethed with a silent rage. It was there in his stature, in the ominous flood of anger that poured from him. It was there in the burning flames in his eyes. His eyes fucking burned blue. Shadows swirled at his feet, rising behind him to dominate the light beyond him until the room was suddenly dim.

Not a whisper of sound was made as Michael crossed the room, not even his shoes. He crossed the room and then stopped in front of her. She wasn't mistaken; flames burned in the depths of his eyes.

He wasn't angry. Oh, no. Murderous rage burned in his eyes. But he presented nothing more than a calm facade. He didn't say anything, just reached his hand down to hers.

Mallory felt their eyes burning into her as she placed her hand in his. His fingers closed around hers and then he pulled her to her feet.

And then he turned that murderous rage on the center of the room.

The Warlock flew backwards, as if he were jerked from behind on a cord, his body nearly folding forward on itself. His body knocked every adornment off the table until he rolled off the end over backwards, landing in a tangled heap on the floor.

Michael walked forward slowly, the soles of his shoes and a heavy groan the only sound in the room.

"I warned you." Michael said softly, staring down at the Warlock.

Mallory's breath froze in her lungs like ice. "Michael, no." She breathed, sensing death. The intent, the retribution, it all came from Michael. Michael lifted his hand and she watched in horror as the Warlock burst into flames. His screams fell on disbelieving ears until the hall echoed with them.

No one moved to intervene, not even when the flames died down to reveal the charred, hardened twisted flesh.

Michael waved the palm of his hand over the Warlocks deceased body and then Mallory watched as a dim light rose from his body. His soul, Mallory realized.

"I promised retribution." Michael said just as softly. He closed his fist and a more soul ripping scream rose up. The sorrowful, painful, relentless scream rippled across the room. The intensity of it sent chills down her spine.

And then there was nothing but silence. No body, no pile of ash, nothing left but the empty memory of a foolish mistake.


	5. Chapter 5

Perhaps now they wouldn't doubt his sincerity on punishing those who overstepped their boundaries. He had given them fair warning. He had given them a chance at peace and unity and _by hell,_ they were going to abide by those laws. They were going to dance to his tune.

They were going to dance and he was going to corrupt the Coven from the inside out.

Michael was come and go. He had things that were best done away from the Coven, for the time being. He was aware of his absence and the effect it had on the Coven's occupants. They were awaiting his return, the when and where of it no doubt frightening.

Michael smiled.

Mallory.

He sensed her confusion and her annoyance at his sudden absence. Why unite the Coven's, why bring the world back from the brink of destruction, only to abandon everything he'd so front forwardly given? No. Oh, no...

He wasn't leaving. The Coven would be a fools errand to think otherwise and they were no fool.

The fact that he was on Mallory's mind was enough guidance. He'd set in motion the tide and there was no stopping it.

After all, he couldn't rebuild _his_ world in seven days. Seven days.

 _In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth._

Michael fisted his hands. He'd created light from the darkness. He'd created it in the midst of a dark, treacherous land. He would show _Elohim,_ the father God above, he would _prove_ himself worthy to all. Not so long ago when he had cried out for guidance, no answer had been forth coming. There had been no joy in the morning, not even from his Father of Lies. They had all ignored his heedance.

 _And God saw the light, and it was good. And God divided the light from the darkness._

 _He_ had divided the darkness from the light and gave it a new purpose. The wicked to come out and play, for the unrighteous to take their place among mankind. And it would be too late...he had moved too soon before. Now he would do so reverently. They would come out to murder and maim, to seduce and take. Only the strong willed would, in the end, be a part of his world.

 _And God called the light day and the darkness he called night._

Mallory, she was as light as he was dark.

 _And God said, "Let the earth put forth grass, herb yielding seed, and fruit bearing fruit after its own kind, wherein is the seed thereof, upon the earth.'_

 _And the earth brought forth grass, herb yielding seed after his kind, and the tree yielding fruit, whose seed was in itself, after his kind; And God saw that it was good._

And he had sent forth his own kind, spreading like the very grass on the earth. Monsters in human skin, seducers of man and woman, demons, angels who once knew glory high. They would root their seeds deep in the humans.

' _Be fruitful and multiply and replenish the earth, and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that creepeth upon the earth._

All would, in time, be faithful to him. Michael knew this. Mallory would be solely faithful and dependent on him.

Michael stared down at the female beneath him. He ran the back of his fingers over her cheek. "Shh.." He kissed the trail of salty tears, his hands tracing the naked curves of her body.

A beautiful witch. One of many that would soon filter into the Coven to grow as he'd _promised._ So young, so sweet. So innocent. So easily corrupted.

She wasn't Mallory. The thought moved through his mind as he took her, his body thrusting in and out of her once virginal body. Would Mallory cling to him as tightly, would her body rise up to meet his? Or would she fight him, mark his body with her nails and teeth? The muscles in his back tensed; he rolled his hips and then held still.

Power ran through her veins and he could taste it in their kiss. It was a dull comparison to Mallory. Mallory was an explosion of power that he'd felt to the very depths of his black heart. No, this witch was too dame. Too docile. Her skin was too dark, her eyes weren't chocolate hues. Everything about her was wrong. She gave a small cry beneath him, her body rippling around his.

His hand traveled back up, the tips of his fingers teasing her shivering flesh. He cupped her breast, felt the thud of her heart beneath his palm. He pulled his hips back and thrust hard. "You will be fruitful and you will multiply." He whispered against her ear. "You will have dominion over them." Words, mere words that he'd quoted to many, men and women alike.

A vow he wanted to swear to the depths of Mallory's soul.

He leaned down, his cock throbbing between her wide spread thighs. "Replenish and subdue, and then bring them to their knees." Her scream tore through the air, only seconds before it was abruptly cut off. Blood spurted, coating his chest and neck, the side of his face. A strong suction sounded as he withdrew his hand from the cavity of her chest, her still beating heart in the palm of his hand. It stopped beating. Michael stared down at death, reveling in the life that he so easily took. Her eyes were glazed over, a look between horror and satisfaction.

Blood rolled down as his forearm, as body still buried in hers, he bit into her heart. His throat worked as he swallowed and dark ecstasy filled him. In his mind, he could see Mallory riding him as he sat up, urging her to go harder. He could see himself offering some fools heart up to his beautiful witch, watching as the blood stained the pale skin of her throat...

His head fell back as he released the heart, his chin and mouth smeared red. His tongue slid over his lips. His eyes were hard as he pressed the deceased organ back into the witches still body. Muscled twitched and twisted around the still heart, red veins suddenly gorging on the offering until the skin slowly begin to knit itself back together until her body was once again unblemished.

Her hands moved then, sliding up over his forearms to his shoulders.

Michael lowered his head and finally lost himself in the witches body, thrusting hard and deep until he was filling her body with his dark essence.

* * *

Mallory stared at the Witches and Warlocks that adorned the table. There were more unrecognizable faces than she could count and more were eager. Things were almost...normal. As if their apocalyptic world had never happened.

As if she had never watched Michael erase a mans soul from both heaven and hell.

Where was he?

She couldn't even question him, or God forbid, even reprimand him for what he'd done. Could she reprimand him? How? She wasn't so sure she could do either. And now the others were afraid to even fucking touch her. Touch her, for God's sake. Cordelia was more cordial about it, she knew there was a fine line and she knew not how to cross it.

But they were all still of, mostly, one mind. This couldn't continue. Michael was the most evil being to ever walk the planet and evil was...just evil.

Michael hadn't lied to her yet. She would give him credit for that.

Most of the Witches and Warlocks were young. They weren't aware of what had trespassed in the past events. They knew nothing about who or what Michael truly was. All they knew was that they were making a joint effort for both Coven's sake.

She would prefer to keep it that way. They had enough to worry about.

"What am I supposed to do?" Mallory shook her head. She knew nothing about _teaching,_ much less engraving the powers of magic on other witches minds. She may be the Supreme, but the entire situation had been thrust on her. Everything she'd accomplished with the Seven Wonders were still at odds. Yes, she'd done them, but the _how_ just came spontaneously.

"Teach them the first thing about magic. It's not something we do...it's something we are." Cordelia said.

Cordelia had been raised on magic, she was born and bred in magic. Mallory was just...learning. And now, apparently she was going to learn as she went. Just like she'd been doing all along. She didn't blame Cordelia for wanting to push the issue on her. Cordelia wanted her to learn, because Mallory was the Supreme, whether she wanted to be or not.

Mallory didn't understand the full of extent of her powers, but she understood that she couldn't ignore them. Eventually, she would take Cordelia's place in full.

She sighed. She never had been one for attention and she didn't want it. But she couldn't escape this. She opened her mouth and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She didn't speak.

 _Finally._

She turned her head. Michael stood in the corner of the room, one shoulder propped against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. Her heart skipped a beat and an old anger pierced her veins. He was as immaculate as always, not a single hair out of place. He looked...like perfection.

" _I warned you." Michael said, staring down at the Warlock._

How could he be so cruel, so unforgiving?

" _I promised retribution." Michael said, flames engulfing the Warlocks very soul until there was nothing...absolutely nothing._

Madison actually crossed the room until she was all the way on the other side. Away from Mallory. Mallory read clear intention in that move, 'uh uh girlfriend.'

Those who had once been dear to her were fucking terrified of her.

Her jaw clenched. Was that Michael's plan, to distance her from the Coven? He'd better think again, because this Coven was her family.

Michael pushed away from the wall, cutting in before she could form a single word. "Actually, I have a different lesson in mind today."

It had never actually crossed her mind that Michael would participate in the going ons of the Coven. But now that he said it, she understood that fully. He had every right. She took a deep breath and nodded. She didn't want to make a scene with so many others present.

Michael clasped his hands behind his back and slowly walked the length of the table and then around, regarding every Witch and Warlock. "I'm sure each of you have heard of the Seven Wonders."

Cordelia tensed. "No, absolutely not."

Michael lifted his head. "Hear me out, Cordelia." He continued, his voice consoling. He had that...effect on people. "Why should Supreme's continue to die, for the next one to rise? There are many spells that most attempt, but fail, because they are taught inadequately. One's own Hell, for example. Why should you continue to lose Witches for something so small?"

Mallory lowered her voice. "The Seven Wonders are not small." She didn't want to have this conversation in front of the others. But it seemed Michael was not going to slacken in his approach. He was far too calm. "Not everyone has the ability to perform in every aspect, Michael."

Michael merely smiled. "But I do. Have I given you reason to doubt me yet, Mallory?"

No, he hadn't. Cordelia knew that. _He_ knew that.

Mallory felt the internal waging war. She didn't want to do this. Even against her better judgment, Michael was right. Why did the prior Supreme have to die? Why, when they did the Seven Wonders, did they put potentials through it, if they didn't know if they could make it? There was so much death involved.

Michael had started a whole new chain when he had brought Cordelia back.

The scrape of chairs echoed as the men and women surrounding the table stood, milling about the room. Some were excited. They didn't know what the Seven Wonders entitled. Perhaps it was time that the last of the line was brought to the forefront.

Mallory looked at Cordelia and then at Michael. "No more death."

"I have no intention of making a promise I won't keep." Michael said.

She didn't want anyone else's death on her hands and she had the feeling if she didn't do something, there would be more. She didn't trust anyone to not offend Michael on her behalf. She bit her bottom lip.

"Please, Michael."

Michael didn't say anything, just beckoned the other Witches and Warlocks forward. To most of them, he was just another powerful Warlock. One of Two Supreme's.

When had their ever been Two Supreme's?

And still...he held out both hands this time. He looked around but never once lowered his hands. "Today, my dear children, we are going to take a trip. Into Hell."

Mallory reached out but stopped just short of her hands touching his. Her fingers curled in on themselves.

"I can offer you an alternative, Mallory." His voice was consoling and caressing. How could Michael do that with his voice alone? And so, Mallory placed her hands in his.

And the entire world dropped away at their feet.


	6. Chapter 6

...and the world dropped away into a bottomless pit of fire.

Flames that burned bright licked at her legs, nearly blinding her with their intensity. Mallory cried out in denial, her hands still clutched in Michael's. Oh God, what had she done? She looked around in desperation, the men and women who had trusted her were engulfed in the flames, fear written across their faces. Damnation.

She'd betrayed them all. Cordelia had been right from the beginning. Michael was cunning and he had led the entire Coven into an enternal hell by their own hands.

"This is what your Bible would have you believe." Michael's voice rang out over the screams. "A one, single minded... _Hell_." The flames ceased on his last word, as if they had never been. There was nothing, absolutely nothing but a barren waste land surrounding them. Nothingness. There was, Mallory realized, no pain. There never had been.

She snatched her hands from Michael's and stepped back, her heart pounding. Michael was right. She should have known better. Hell wasn't brimestone and fire. Most people didn't know that. They thought it was as the Bible described, a bottomless pit of fire that held the beast.

But no, Hell was your worst nightmare. Your living fear. It was reliving the most catastrophic event in your life. Over and over. You couldn't escape it.

"That was your first lesson. You are your own hell. Your second lesson..." Michael lifted his hand and snapped his fingers. The Witches and Warlocks fell as one, their bodies seemingly lifeless.

Mallory lifted stricken eyes to his. "What did you do to them?"

" _Their_ first lesson." Michael knew they weren't ready. They would fail over and over. None of these mindless fools had what it took to reign so sweetly Supreme as Mallory did. "You must trust me, Mallory." He could end them all, here and now. No one could stop him. A personal hell was historic and soul crushing.

"Isn't it ironic, that his Hell is burning in Hell?" Michael gave a cool smile as he motioned towards the Warlock to his left. "This..." He said with a sweeping arm. "...was his hell. A true, bibical Hell of burning for Eternity."

He must have experienced burning. Somewhere in his life, the fear of burning alive had become the foremost of his fears. "How did he project his Hell?"

Michael shrugged. "One persons Hell can be more forthcoming than the next."

Traumatizing.

Mallory watched as Michael reached out again and closed his hand into a fist. A Witch rose up by her chest, arching, gasping for breath before her eyes sprang open. " _And one by one they shall rise..."_ Michael murmured.

She watched as he repeated the gesture but not once did she think that this was over. Not one of them were coming through on their own. Michael was pulling them out of the very depths of their own Hell. What he did was...amazing. She would be lying if she said it wasn't. He was doing the impossible.

Could Cordelia do it?

No.

The minutes ticked by, a silence broken only by broken gasps and groans. Mallory stared at him as he effortlessly pulled each soul back from the brink...the way his hand worked, the invisible tug of power...

Michael stilled.

He glanced down, watching as Mallory twined her fingers through his. Yes... _Yes._ Mallory lifted her other hand and he felt the tale end of power that equaled his, reaching into the depths to pull the soul and mind back from the depths of a personal Hell. He smiled, the hidden triumph gleaming in his eyes. There she was. His Witch, His Supreme, reaching out for him all on her own.

He didn't say anything, just closed his hand around hers until they were whole and surrounded once again. _"_ The righteous may fall _seven_ times but still get up." Michael murmured and lifted her hand, his lips grazing over her knuckles before she quickly and nervously pulled her hand away.

"What are you afraid of?"

Michael lifted his head at those words and arched an eyebrow, turning towards the speaker. "Nothing." Simple. Elegant. He feared nothing. Once...

"Doesn't everyone have a Hell?"

Michael gave a chilling smile. "I'm not everyone."

The surrounding area rippled, a clear move of empty air that shifted into blue...a light baby blue of surrounding walls. The barren wasteland wasn't so barren anymore and Mallory realized they were standing in a bedroom.

 _"Tell me something, Michael. Do you have to kill every single living creature that crosses your path?"_

Mallory spun around at the feminine voice, the others mimicking her move. They were in a child's bedroom, surrounded by toys, video games and clothes. Her breath froze at the sight of Michael propped up on the end of the bed, his legs dangling over the footboard carelessly. _Michael_...but it wasn't. He was younger...younger...

 _"Could you maybe just maim one..."_

 _The blonde woman spoke, her voice distraught. And Michael, so very young, his expression almost child like...so very..._

" _...or how about this for an awful idea, if they are causing you distress why don't you just politely ask them to leave?!" The blonde woman tossed the game controller behind her in anger. Her eyes burned in anger, digging into Michael._

 _Michael leaned back, his expresson forelorn. She didn't understand. Why couldn't she understand? "He kept shoving his cross in my face and speaking Latin. The words were burning my ears."_

Michael...so very young...so...innocent.

 _"Now I know that I am far from perfect and I have had my fair share of failures raising children. But I am done taking the blame for the horror and misery that you keep bringing in this house."_

Oh God. Mallory turned, her eyes suddenly haunted. "Michael." She whispered. Horror filled her. Confusion. She reached out and then stepped in front of Michael, but he wasn't paying attention to her. His eyes were hard, his expression taunt as he watched.

 _Michael shook his head. "I'm sorry." His voice wobbled. "I-I-I won't do it again. I promise." He stood, moving towards Constance, his only mother. "I don't know why I keep doing what I'm doing." He couldn't help it. No one seemed to understand the joy he felt when he did those things. He didn't know why he enjoyed it. "I need help."_

Mallory couldn't look away from the exchange. What she was seeing was so strong in emotion that it nearly sent her to her knees. The sadness and anger was too real. No ones hell should be so strong. But she couldn't stop watching.

 _"I'm just a child."_

 _Constance stabbed her finger in his face. "You are not a child." He wasn't. He was a monster. "My grandson is a child." Her voice broke. "And I see his eyes in your eyes and I hear the remnament..." She lunged forward with her hand around his throat. "...of his sweet voice in your throat." She jerked her hand away just as suddenly, as if she couldn't stand to touch him. "But you are not him. Now you may have somehow claimed his bed but YOU ARE NOT HIM!" Her voice broke again._

 _Michael shook his head just a fraction of an inch. "Please don't be mad."_

 _"You've made a fool of me this entire time. Treating me like the help, all the buried rodents and the murdered nannies and I went along with it thinking it was just a phase that you were going through. But this is not a phase! This is WHO you are. And it's only going to get worse." Constance exasperated. She was finally seeing him for the monster he was, no matter the boy who she wanted to see. "But I swear to God, it is not going to happen in my house."_

That was Michael. Something was terribly wrong here. Michael, so innocent, Mallory could see it. And it was horrible.

 _Constance stalked to the closet and jerked the door open as Michael stared after her._

 _"What do you mean?" Michael asked and then jerked as Constance threw a jean jacket in his arms._

 _"GET OUT."_

And then... _"Tell me something, Michael..."_ All over again.

"Michael." Mallory stared up at Michael, her breath rushing through her lungs. This was Michael's Hell. The most humilating and gut wrenching experience of his life. What she was seeing was strong enough to project outward. The child-like Michael didn't resemble the man who stood before her. What she saw in his blue eyes was a child. _A child._ It was there in his words, in the way he pleaded. She realized then that she knew nothing of Michael's past other than the fact that he was the Anti-Christ. He had no soul, he had been born pure evil.

 _"I'm just a child."_

"Michael." Mallory touched his arm and then shook him gently. "It's not real." He was tense under her hand, but then he turned those chilling eyes on her. "It's not real." She whispered.

She hadn't expected this. This look into Michael's past. There was a significance here, something that had carved a place out of Michael's soul.

Michael had a soul.

Or he had at one time. The pain and agonizing, emotional, turmoil of his Hell was soul crushing.

Those chilling eyes bored into hers. "Today's lesson is over." He stated flatly and proving just how powerful he was, they were in the Covens Grand Hall once again.

He was gone.

* * *

Mallory stared at the empty place where Michael had been. He was still there, in the Coven. She could feel him. Her mind was still struggling to take in what she had seen. The others had seen it, but they didn't... She saw deeper.

That had been personal, something buried so deep that even Michael hadn't realized what it was until it was too late.

Had Michael actually been a child at one time? Did they see what she was beginning to see? God, what did that even mean?

An awkward silence filled the room and Mallory blinked out of the Grand Hall and into an upstairs bedroom. Exactly where she knew Michael would be. His back was to her but she saw the way he gripped the dresser, his knuckles white.

"Michael…" Mallory started but his name ended on a disgruntled note as Michael appeared in front of her, his hand around her throat. He pushed her back against the wall.

"I don't want your pity." Michael said coolly.

"I don't pity you." The lie was bittersweet.

"Don't you?" Michael's fingers tightened. "Then why are you here? Is it because you're curious? Is it because you think you need to ease whatever pain you think I feel?" He leaned in close, his words whispering across her cheek. "Pain is only temporary, Mallory."

He was angry. It was there in his lashing words.

"Who was she?" Mallory asked against the constriction of her throat.

He leaned back so that they were face to face, inches apart still. "My mother. My grandmother. Both. Have I told you, Mallory, that my own flesh and blood mother tried to kill me as a baby? But you know what that's like, don't you?"

He was hurting her on purpose. Reminding her that her own family couldn't accept that she was a witch.

"So cry for me, Mallory. Tell me how I have good in my nonexistent soul. I thought that my Hell was to remain on this disgusting planet with the weak minded. I was wrong."

He was cruel. Mallory closed her eyes. She wanted to say those things and more.

"Open your eyes."

She opened her eyes, both angry and sad. Angry that Michael was who he was. Sad that he'd had to endure betrayal.

"How does it feel when you tap into it all? Your very core, the magic that runs through your very soul? That dark side that no one even knows about." Michael murmured.

"What?" Mallory inhaled, confused at his sudden change of topic.

"It stops the pain, doesn't it? It feels so good rushing through your veins. Supreme power is addicting, isn't it?"

"Stop." Mallory breathed out. Because he was right. He had somehow managed to turn this on her. But God, was he right. She rode a permanent high when she opened herself up to him.

Her heart skipped a beat when Michaels eyes darkened, shallow darkness taking their place. She could feel it where his palm touched her neck, that addicting energy that he was steadily pushing her into.

"Why are you afraid to enjoy Supremacy, Mallory? It's a beautiful thing. You can lie to me, but you can't lie to yourself."

She wanted to taste it again. That electrifying darkness that melted her from the inside out. It numbed her pain. The refusals, the failures of her past.

Why was he doing this to her?

" _Because you saw too much_." As if reading her mind, Michael spoke those words, essentially damning her, even if only temporarily.

Because the darkness would blind her to Michael's pain. Distract her from the pity that he could not stand.

"Take it, Mallory. You need it, don't you, the feel of power rushing through your veins." Michael shifted his hand, his fingers spearing into her hair almost painfully and jerking her head back.

He was opening himself up to her. Mallory could feel it. God help her, he was right. She was addicted to the power he had shown her. Such power couldn't be that bad, could it?

"That's it." Michael snarled in triumph seconds before he kissed her, fusing their lips together. He caught her moan, the way she gave in instantly and kissed him back.

Because she was taking it in again, opening herself up to her and his power. Faded black veins rose up along her jawline and cheeks as she kissed him back, already high on the sensation of his power. They faded just as quickly as they had appeared.

 _Michael couldn't stand her pity... no one pitied him._


End file.
